Swindling
by Amongst-Azarath
Summary: Artemis realises the repercussions of her actions after someone captures her crossing a line she swore she never would. ArtemisXDick.
1. Swindling

_Um, yeah. :). _

_A thousand apologies to those who are readers of my shiz. I know, I should be updating other stuff, but meh._

_I wrote this (woo!). I'm not happy with it, as always, but it's been sitting on my lappy toppy for a week and I'm sick of it. So the most logical thing to do was post it, of course. Present tense really isn't my thing, but this kind of deserved it. I'm pretty sure there are lots of boo boo's in there too._

**_Please read and review. It means a lot :)._**

_**Enjoy!**_

_P.S: I'm not sure why this deserved it's own place, separate from my single ficlets. A niggle of future chapters seems to be eating at me._

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_Swindling_

His full lips quiver ever so slightly, enough for her to recognise that words should be escaping those smooth lips. But she can't quite make them out. She frowns at him, discombobulated. In fact, she can't hear anything. Everything is silent. Objects are moving, scattering across the cement in the wind, but no noise escapes them. However, it doesn't seem to bother her. The only thing that seems to be bothering her is the distance between her and the black haired teen. He's standing so close. Way too close, but she doesn't have the will power to tell him to step away. She hates to admit it, but she likes it. It's comforting, reassuring.

She can feel his hand gently caressing her back. His fingertips gingerly touch her bare back. They are both still in uniform, but are unmasked, which makes her feel so uneasy. After being kept a secret for so long, she's weary of the consequences of him freely showing his identity. His ocean blue eyes are clear and stern intently looking at her dark grey ones, making that edgy feeling more intense. His dark raven hair is soaked and slicked back with a quick hand, making his whole face visible. She is still puzzled at the fact no noise has reached her ears yet.

Her knees weaken for a moment, still in shock from the blow. The tendons in his hand tighten making his touch firmer, ready to catch her. He steps closer in concern as she catches herself. Sound floods her ears. It's rather loud for a moment, making her eyes widen. Her eyes turn to slits briefly, before the noise level becomes bearable again.

"Are you alright?" His deep voice coos into her left ear, noting her sudden jolt back into reality. His voice sends a light shiver down her spine.

She nods, unable to speak. She's not sure if it was the knock to her head or the fact that he is standing even closer than before, holding her.. whispering into her ear.

She can feel a soft rhythmic thud beginning on the left side of her head, directly behind her ear. The world spins before her. His blue eyes blur, mixing in with the dark colours of his jet black hair and the grey city jungle background behind him. She closes her eyes, hoping the vertigo will pass. However, it doesn't. It delves into her sightless mind, making her feel slightly nauseous all of a sudden. She can feel her body succumbing to the dizziness. Oddly enough, she doesn't try to fight it. Then it happens. Her weight shifts forward and her body begins to lose balance. She feels her right shoulder, upper arm and breast press lightly into his chest. He seems to be cool with it. His hands wrap tighter around her waist, pulling her closer. She relaxes into him, letting him take her weight.

She notes that his body type is undoubtedly similar to that of her red headed boyfriend. However, the black haired teen's body is much more chiselled and well-muscled, compared to Wally's thin, lean and taller frame. The younger teen has to be, she reminds herself, he is without the gift of superpowers too. Maybe that's why they connect better – or _differently_. He understands. He understands how hard it is to be constantly doubting yourself and being doubted by others for being a 'normal' human being. They see the two of them as breakable, liabilities.

"Careful," he warns, she can hear the playful tone in his voice. She already knows the smile that will be tugging at the edges of his lips.

Her eyes snap open and she glares at him, well as much as she can with the slow ending spins of her vertigo. There it is. That smug, teasing, mischievous smile.

"I think you might have a concussion," He ducks to her height, making his sightline equal with hers. That smile is still there. It's a little faint, but still there.

Her face turns blank, unimpressed, knowing that he's making fun of her height. "I'll be fine, Dick," her voice is hoarse. She contemplates moving from his tight embrace. She could move his arms away, she could shimmy her way out of his grip, she could push him away jokingly. But she doesn't. She stays in his grip, still giving him part of her body weight.

A light chuckle escapes his lips, the remnants of his old laughter as a young teenager still there.

"I don't think so, Artemis."

This time she actually pulls away from his grip, shrugging him off. His hands drop to his sides as she steps away. He's being way too kind, way too caring, way too handsome, way too understanding, way too… everything Wally's not. The worst part is that he knows it. He knows everything. He knows the continuous fights, the lack of contact, the nights alone, the constant bailing on prepared plans. He knows the absence of Wally in the relationship. He knows because Wally is his best friend.

But he's also her best friend too.

Transfixed, he stands still, watching the young blonde woman stumble away. His face distorts into a cringe. It's horribly awkward to watch. A hand flings to her head, as if it will stop the spinning motion. One step, two steps and stumble. Slowly, the same routine repeats, over and over. The urge to rush after her is strong, but he lets her go. She likes to be independent. She likes to defy everyone and everything. She likes being the underdog. It suits her. However, it makes it terribly clear when she needs help. Here, for example.

His muscles tense for a moment, knowing she's about to fall any moment. He explodes into action, knowing all too well she's about to clip her own foot with other and fall face first into the hard cement, resulting in something more than just a concussion. After two quick canters, he sees it unfold as he predicted.

Quickly he leaps, slamming two feet into the pavement behind her, one after the other. With a bend in his knees he leans forward and wraps his arms delicately around her top half. One arm snakes around her waist, the other diagonally across her chest between her two breasts. He pulls her close, clinging to her. His breath is quick for a moment. He notices she doesn't tighten. Her weight is half on him.

"I told you," he taunts in her ear, still holding her tight.

Surprisingly, she smiles. Maybe this is what she wanted all along. Someone to depend on. Someone that she can actually connect to. Someone that's not Wally. Someone better. Because she deserves it, as Dick tells her constantly. It clicks. She realises what she wants.

Quickly she spins, facing the dark haired teen. He's almost two years younger than her. He's rich. He's smart. He's good. He's handsome. He's the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. The sidekick to Batman. It's all wrong, but right now, it feels perfectly right.

Her face softens, hoping he initiates something, anything. A deep realisation crosses the younger teen's face. He knows exactly what she wants and he can give it to her, unlike someone else. She finally knows how he feels.

He pulls her close and her arms slowly wrap around his middle. She runs her palms up his latex covered back. His face leans towards her. Second thoughts are plaguing her mind but it's too late. The younger teens lips are now on hers, massaging and sucking away. The pace is slow and passionate. There is an opportunity as her mouth parts slightly. He takes it, sliding his tongue through the gap. Her hands grip the fabric of his suit, he takes this as a sign and the kiss deepens.

She can feel it. The passion rising in her gut. The anticipation of something new. The danger of doing something so wrong. It all feels so good. The sensation of his tongue on hers is incredible. The swapping of way too much saliva makes her weak at the knees. His rough, but gentle grip makes her rouses the ecstasy within her. It feels beyond amazing. Incredible. Absolutely insane.

She parts from the kiss, but he's gearing for more. A satisfied smile makes its way onto her face as she drops her head back. He presses his lips to her neck, once, twice, several times. She can feel the wetness against her neck and it somehow urges her on. Her hands break their grip on his costume and grip the sides of his face. Her head snaps up and she plants her lips on his. Shock ripples through his body, but he loves it.

He wishes he could tell her how long he has waited to do that. He frowns slightly. He can tell her. She knows now. She knows how he feels. How he can give her so much more than Wally. The kiss is slow. She slowly pulls back. A look of complete serenity crosses her features, and it's absolutely beautiful. It's something that he hardly ever sees. Her grey eyes look at him simply. A faint smile graces her lips. He finds himself smiling.

His face drops as his line of sight switches to something to her right, behind her. The smile is instantly wiped from her face. Her eyes search his. She doesn't want to look away from those usually reassuring eyes. Her gaze frantically switches from one eye to the other, hoping he'll look back at her, hoping that it's not what she thinks it is. Or more accurately, who she thinks it is. He doesn't look back at her. She prays that it's not the red head. The red head they both love.

However, it's not the red head they're expecting. He's the older one, the more mature one, the serious one. Red Arrow. Roy Harper.

_Sprung._ They see no point in jumping apart, acting as if they never touched. They were giving consent to more than just touching. The blonde can't look at the older red head. She knows the older and wiser disappointed look decorating his face. The same reflecting image of their mentor's face. Her eyes scramble for something interesting to look at. They frantically jump from object to object, failing miserably at finding something, anything distracting.

She can feel the younger teen's hands clench around her waist. She can feel the stress in his grip. At least he has more guts than she has. He can actually look at Roy. He can admit what he's done. The guilt floods her now. She can't admit to it. She can't even turn and look at him. Even in the arms of another guy.

No one is saying anything. _Why isn't anyone saying anything_? The silence is killing her. No one is moving. Nothing is moving. Everything is dead silent. She realises they are waiting for her. Why wouldn't they be? She is at the centre of all of this. It all starts and ends with her. A hint of regret niggles at the back of her mind. Defiantly, she pushes it back and swallows hard. Impulsively her head turns. Her eyes slowly meet those of her older counterpart, the man she grew to trust as much as her mentor.

The guilt hits her stomach. Hard. The nausea floods back and she lets her embrace around Dick drop. Those blue eyes are hard and unforgiving. She licks her lips awkwardly. She sees a flash of disappointment for a split second. The exact face she expected him to pull. It only lasts for a moment, but it's enough. His eyes cover his momentary lapse by flaring with anger. She can see he's using every inch of his will power to keep his feelings at bay. She knows he wants to abuse her and the black haired teen that is still enveloping her in a hug.

Her shame is blinding now. What's the point of hiding?

"Where is he?" The deep commanding voice of the older man calls. It sounds numb and disjointed.

His stance is strong, shoulders open and fists clenching around his bow.

She swallows again. Her face is expressionless now. "I don't know."

His look delves to Dick. The look is murderous. She turns her attention to the young man holding her. The younger boy accepts the icy look from Roy. Dick knows. He understands. He's aware. He fully knows what he's doing and the consequences. It's his best friend. They continue to look at each other. It's as if they're having a secret conversation. They seem to know what each other is thinking all the time. They share a strange connection despite the large age gap. She always thought it was quite remarkable how well the two got along. The red head's look softens slightly. The young black haired boy looks down for a moment and then back up.

They look at each other for a long time. Bright blue eyes belonging to Roy turn to her. He frowns slightly. Something flares inside the blonde. Something that makes her slightly agitated and it only grows stronger looking at the two strong and silent types in front of her. She remembers why she hates their silent conversations. They leave her out. Talk about her behind her back. Her agitation grows to cantankerous, before settling on irate.

He is still holding her in his tight grasp. She pulls back, trying to shake his grip with a violent shiver and swiping push. His attention snaps to her, confused. Her emotions register to him, only a moment too late. He reaches to grip her waist, or arm, or something, but he grasps thin air.

She turns, brushing the two off. She would prefer the nonverbal conversation to continue without her there. Quickly, she throws an arm back and grips her olive green hood. She slips it over her hair and face, her furious grey orbs boldly exposed through the two eye slits.

"Artemis," She hears the younger one call with a frantic edge to his tone.

Too late. She has already broken into a jog. She has to go. She has to get away. She hears the shuffle of some feet against the cement. It only makes her rush faster. She can feel the blood pumping now. The anger is feeding her adrenaline.

She hears her name being called again, but she's sprinting now, her eyes set on the lights in the distance. She nears the edge of the building and leaps.


	2. Fraudulent

_Mmmhey!_

_I know I said I wouldn't upload.. but MEH. _

_It's been sitting around for a while, this piece. So I though I might as well upload it. Not my best, but :)._

**_Thank you to my beautiful reviewers (which I should've replied to - I STILL MIGHT, WATCH OUT!) They mean so much :)._**

_Anyway, blahblahblah, mistakes and stuff. Not really sure where this is going, but it's going anyway!_

_Disclaimer: Don't own._

_Enjoy!_

_Please read and review :)_

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**_Swindling_**

_Chapter Two: Fraudulent_

She sighs faintly, stepping into the sleek, modern kitchen. It's dimly lit by the eerie glow from a few digital clocks on the electronic appliances. There is no noise. Everything is silent, besides the occasional hum of the stainless steel refrigerator. Thankfully no one is up. She glances at the clock on the wall opposite her. 4.56am. Who would be up? Her muscles loosen as she feels slightly relieved. Out of habit, she slips her bow, usually resting in her right hand, over her head and lets it rest on her shoulder, hanging diagonally across her body like satchel. Her knuckles are white from clenching onto the strap of her quiver. Slowly, her hand releases the quiver containing her precious arrows and they drop to the floor with a light thud next to the island counter. The opposite hand reaches to her face. Gently, she grips the edge of her mask and rips it backwards, letting it fall from her grip and flop lazily down her back.

Her hand then reaches for her tightly bound back blonde tresses in a ponytail. With a few flicks of her fingers her hair is loose; cascading freely down her back and the hair tie is tightly wrapped around her right wrist. The shorter bits of fringe fall beside her face, framing it.

Her stomach rumbles, ravenous. She frowns as she goes for the fridge. The day's events flood back to her. _Shit_.

_He pulls her close and her arms slowly wrap around his middle. She runs her palms up his latex covered back. His face leans towards her. Second thoughts are plaguing her mind but it's too late. The younger teens lips are now on hers, massaging and sucking away. The pace is slow and passionate. There is an opportunity as her mouth parts slightly. He takes it, sliding his tongue through the gap. Her hands grip the fabric of his suit, he takes this as a sign and the kiss deepens._

_She can feel it. The passion rising in her gut. The anticipation of something new. The danger of doing something so wrong. It all feels so good. The sensation of his tongue on hers is incredible. The swapping of way too much saliva makes her weak at the knees. His rough, but gentle grip makes her rouses the ecstasy within her. It feels beyond amazing. Incredible. Absolutely insane._

She sucks in a sharp breath, her movement pausing briefly. Adrenaline kicks in for a millisecond and her body tenses. She can feel it pump through her body for a moment before it disappears. She is left breathless and frozen for a just second. That same nauseous feeling rumbles at the pit of her stomach, guilty. She redirects her path instantly, walking straight past the fridge. She forgets about her quiver and arrows. She forgets that she is ravenous. She forgets how tired she is. The only thing she can remember is Wally. There is only one question plaguing her mind. _Does Wally know?_

She has to find him. _That's if he's even at mount justice_, she reminds herself. She briskly walks past the cupboards and dirty counter still decorated with last night's meal, which looks like Spaghetti bolognaise. She rounds the corner that leads into the hallway, sharply turning left. She can only pray the two boys have kept their mouths shut.

A strong hand grips her around the waist, scaring her frozen stiff for a moment. Her breath gets caught in her chest as she is roughly spun around and pushed into the wall. Her mind jumps to Wally instantly, but to her dismay, or relief – she's not quite sure – it's the other red head. He presses her harder against the wall. She can feel the boney bits of her shoulder blades dig into the wall, making her wince ever so slightly. The thick string of her bow presses into her skin between her blades emphasising the pain even more. She can fell the cool metal of his right hand gripping her right wrist down and against the wall by her side. The other, warmer hand has a tight grip on her upper left arm, pressing it painfully into the wall behind her.

She swallows and a scowl begins to decorate her face. She gains her confidence back suddenly. "Do you mind handling-"

"We need to talk," he cuts her off, his voice bordering on a whispered growl. His grip doesn't change and she realises how serious he really is. Her hearts skips into a fastened pace. It's about Wally. That sick gut feeling returns. She needs to leave.

"No, we don't," she presses against him, expecting him to let her go. But he doesn't. Her look is quizzical for a moment and then it turns to agitation. "Roy, if you don't let me go-"

"You'll what?" He cuts her off sharply, his face even closer. "Shout to Wally? Or Dick even?" He questions her with venom. "You might have some explaining to do," he points out, his tone malicious still.

Her expression drops. He's right. Her muscles relax. He takes the pressure off slightly. Her shoulder blades relax. She forgot that they were painfully pressing against the cement wall behind her a moment ago. She realises that Roy hasn't blabbed. Why?

"Why haven't you said anything?" She whispers, the nauseousness swirling at the pit of her stomach.

"It's not my place," he states, a little softer now. "But it is yours," he snaps suddenly. "How long has this been going on for?" he drills, tightening his grip again.

She doesn't answer. Her thoughts are clogging her brain too much to speak. Her posture is sinking. That feeling is getting worse. She feels so sick. The saliva clags in her mouth as determines whether she should speak or not.

Roy decides for her. "Were you even thinking of Wally?"

Those words cut deep for some reason. Deeper than usual. Enough for the tears to prick her eyes. Maybe it's the nausea. She can't tell. Her knees weaken and she fumbles slightly in his grip.

He holds her steady. He sees the tears in her eyes and his expression swaps to confusion. He doesn't know what to do. The tears begin to leak from her eyes. Guilt swells in his gut as his expression shifts into a frazzled frown. He hadn't expected her to do this. She never cries. But here she is, weeping, the salty water slowly flowing down her cheeks. He feels uneasy, like he's losing his nerve. He's not sure what to do.

"Artemis." Her heart quickens.

The two both look to their right. Just what she needed. The dark haired teen is standing there dressed lightly in a grey singlet, the muscles in his arms flexing and his bottom half dons black track pants. His eyes are tired and bloodshot – maskless. The blueness of his eyes is still bright.

Her eyes fall to his lips. Flashes of his mouth on hers speed through her mind. She bites her lip and looks back at Roy. She can't be here. She feels Roy's grip loosen, so she takes her chance. She quickly slips from his arms. She glances at Dick for only a millisecond as she slinks past him and down the hall. She can tell he won't follow. He knows she wants to be left alone. She's halfway down the hall before she realises she's left Dick to damage control. But she honestly can't be fucked dealing with Roy right now, or Dick for that matter. She doesn't even know how she feels, so how can she explain to him?

"Dick-" she hears Roy begin his interrogation, but she's already at her room and the slam of her wooden door cuts her off from hearing rest of the conversation.

Angrily she grips her bow and slips it back over her head. She reaches back for the satchel containing her bows. But they're not there. She swears under her breath, realising she left them in the kitchen. She lets the bow drop to the floor and she's already griping her spandex green top with two hands. She yanks it over her head and tosses it aside. One at a time, she kicks off her boots before grabbing the top of her matching green spandex pants and jerking them off too, her small knife in its holster slipping off along with the tight leggings.

Irate, she marches for bed and slips under the convers. She wrenches the doona over her, covering her naked body. She hopes her sleep won't be disrupted. She hopes her anger will disappear so this day will finally end. All she wants is for it to be over.

The last thing she remembers is the buzzing of her phone on her bed side table before she succumbs to the land of slumber.

_888_

The bed shifts slightly. She frowns faintly, still groggy with sleep. She can feel arms wrap around her delicate waist. Her muscles tense and she's already alert. A warm breath presses against her neck, instantly relaxing her. It's Wally.

"Relax," he coos, "it's just me," he reassures her, just in case. He cuddles tighter. The small content smile on her face lets him know she's enjoying it.

"Night gorgeous," he whispers, resting his head above hers.

Suddenly she remembers. Her body goes rigid, but Wally just pulls her tighter, his warm breath waving at the back of her neck.

She feels sick. Her stomach churns over and over as she listens and feels his breath. She can't sleep now. He's there. She's lied. He still doesn't know. She doesn't know whether she should tell him. But it's too late, he's already asleep. It's a mess. A big giant mess. What happens from here is the only thing sprinting through her mind.

Her mind thinks, mauls, and delves into possible outcomes and solutions. She adjusts her head slightly and feels the wetness of her pillow. The realisation of her tears only makes them flow faster.

She doesn't sleep.


End file.
